ll be in a shocking box yourself. So will I, if you
come to that. I should like to know how any one of us would look, or
what the devil we should have to say for ourselves, in any Christian
witness-box. For me, you know there's one thing certain--that,
practically speaking, all our subjects have been murdered."

"Macfarlane!" cried Fettes.

"Come now!" sneered the other. "As if you hadn't suspected it yourself!"

"Suspecting is one thing----"

"And proof another. Yes, I know; and I'm as sorry as you are this should
have come here," tapping the body with his cane. "The next best thing
for me is not to recognise it; and," he added coolly, "I don't. You may,
if you please. I don't dictate, but I think a man of the world would do
as I do; and I may add, I fancy that is what K---- would look for at our
hands. The question is, Why did he choose us two for his assistants? And
I answer, Because he didn't want old wives."

This was the tone of all others to affect the mind of a lad like Fettes.
He agreed to imitate Macfarlane. The body of the unfortunate girl was
duly dissected, and no one remarked or appeared to recognise her.

One afternoon, when his day's work was over, Fettes dropped into a
popular tavern and found Macfarlane sitting with a stranger. This was a
small man, very pale and dark, with coal-black eyes. The cut of his
features gave a promise of intellect and refinement which was but feebly
realised in his manners, for he proved, upon a nearer acquaintance,
coarse, vulgar, and stupid. He exercised, however, a very remarkable
control over Macfarlane; issued orders like the Great Bashaw; became
inflamed at the least discussion or delay, and commented rudely on the
servility with which he was obeyed. This most offensive person took a
fancy to Fettes on the spot, plied him with drinks, and honoured him
with unusual confidences on his past career. If a tenth part of what he
confessed were true, he was a very loathsome rogue; and the lad's
vanity was tickled by the attention of so experienced a man.

"I'm a pretty bad fellow myself," the stranger remarked, "but Macfarlane
is the boy--Toddy Macfarlane I call him. Toddy, order your friend
another glass." Or it might be, "Toddy, you jump up and shut the door."
"Toddy hates me," he said again. "Oh, yes, Toddy, you do!"

"Don't you call me that confounded name," growled Macfarlane.

"Hear him! Did you ever see the lads play knife? He would like to do
that all over my